Drifting Through Fog
by peggy9
Summary: Set on Friezas ship, Vegetas POV. A young Vegeta and Jeice have a disagreement about something. The question is, whats really going on? Rated T for suggestive/adult themes, drug references and some brief language.Let me know what you think,Im new to this


Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or its characters. Blah.

In this short tale, Jeice and a young Vegeta (who's maybe ten or eleven years old in this fic) have a bit of a disagreement. Rated T for some language, suggestive/adult themes and drug references. If you don't like that stuff well... good for you.

Drifting Through Fog

I can hear the soft padding of bare feet making their way slowly up the hall. I know it's him because I know him better than anyone else here, right down to his footsteps. I keep reading the book I'm reading, in which something strange is going on- the heroine is dreaming that she's swimming through a river of floating, tangled tree roots that keep catching at her hair and hands and feet, tearing at them painfully and trying to drag her down. Maybe he'll just ignore me, maybe he isn't even intending on coming into our room. Maybe.

'Hi there,' I hear his voice pipe out cheerfully behind me. Maybe not.

'Hi Jeice,' I mumble, wishing he'd just piss off back to where ever he was before.

'_Reading_ again? It don't make you smarter ya know, that's just a lotta rubbish. Dunno who told you that.'

I don't reply for a while, but I can sense him getting irritated with my silence even though I'm not looking directly at him, because somehow his emotions are always seeping out of him, making the air around us thick. I feel them like the hot summer winds.

'It's just to pass the time really.'

'Really ey? Plenty better ways to do that round 'ere. You should try 'avin some fun every once in a while ya know...' his voice trails off as he walks into the bathroom.

…

It has been some time now and he is yet to emerge, a fact that worries me considerably as I've not heard running water nor did I hear him go into the toilet, because the door slams and you always hear it loud and clear. I listen carefully, feeling very wary of him all of a sudden although I can't say exactly why I'm either of those things. Something is nagging at the back of my mind, I know, but I can't grasp it long enough or firmly enough to discern precisely what it is. When he does finally make an appearance, I'm pondering this unsettling feeling and don't notice at first, so that when I look up out of my thoughts and see him grinning at I gasp.

'Ha ha! Wondered how long it'd take! Still _readin_' are ya?'

I think it must be quite obvious that I wasn't, as the book has somehow settled itself on the first page without my noticing, but what I do notice is that his ivy green irises have all but disappeared. So that's what the feeling was, I knew something was going wrong. The demon has a got a hold of him again.

'What's wrong?' he murmurs, the grin giving way to a strangely sad expression, as though my gaze has somehow hurt him.

'Nothing. Your eyes look funny is all.'

This sends him into a fit of unexplained, hysterical laughter and I barely understand him when he tries to speak through his giggles.

'Come 'ere silly. I wanna play a game, just me an you. Well come on then.'

The clock tick tocks in the background, the only sound breaking the silence. Its odd the way people change from one moment, or from one day to the next, the way the things that make them angry at one time make them laugh another, the way one minute you make them smile and the next you make them scream.

'What is it? What's the matter wif ya?'

'What game do you want to play?'

'Well you know, my favourite one, the special one.'

Not that I really had to ask. Tick tock tick tock.

'I... don't really want to play right now.'

'Well I do.' He isn't laughing any more.

'But I don't...'

'I can't hear you right. You're mumbling-'

'I don't feel like it,' I cut in, a hint of exasperation creeping into my tone.

Tick tock tick tock. I should be training right now, not here wasting my time, but of course I've been told I'm not to train so much as it's not healthy; well of course they'd say that, it's not healthy, not for them, not once I've managed to surpass everyone here and destroy them all. Not healthy indeed. I've been idly passing the portion of the day that I've been ordered to rest easily enough with the books in the library, the television, and other foolish, frivolous things, at least the books seemed foolish at first. Now I've actually come to find them a little bit interesting (though I'd never admit that to anyone), and it's just as well because there's nothing to do on this boring, stupid ship that I regret to call my home in between missions. Despite all the restrictions placed on me, I get up to train secretly at night, whenever I can get away. This is tiring, but it has to be done because I won't let them ruin my plans.

'I think you're being awful boring today V. Readin' books, not talking to me, not _listenin'_ to me, don't wanna play, nuffing.'

God, has he been speaking?

'No-'

'No what!? His voice rises and the bones jaw shift eerily, setting in a menacing expression.

'If I say we're gunna play a game then that's what we're gunna do, understand?' We talked about this kid, now you tell me who's the superior here?'

'You are, but-'

'But nuffing. What? What ya got that look on your face for?'

'I don't think we're supposed to play that game.'

'Who says?!'

"Well I don't know but... everyone...' I don't know where this is coming from, this confidence and these words, but they sounded like a much better argument inside my head. Why would I argue with him? Why would anyone do that?

'Well what they don't know don't hurt em, does it?'

'Why do I have to obey my superiors and you don't have to obey yours?'

He slaps me hard across the face, and my head snaps to the side.

'I do things _my_ way round 'ere, and I don't _have_ superiors, not really, thanks very much. And don't you forget it. I do things my way, and you do things my way.'

I know I'll really get it for going on, but by the looks of things I'm going to anyway, so I figure I might as well say it.

'Well. If other people knew... I don't think they'd agree with that.' No sooner have I said it than I feel a heavy weight on me and a strong hand clutching dangerously at my throat, and I wonder not for the first time how he can be so fast.

'You threatening me, is that what you're doing? No? Well it sure sounds like it. Now you hear this you little prick. They ain't gunna know, cause you ain't gunna say, you hear? Everyone hear _hates_ you, did you know that? They ain't gunna believe you in a million years, and even if they did, well... well,' he stops for a moment and glares at me, then looks thoughtfully at the ceiling. 'Well you see you wouldn't want to make 'em hate you even more by tellin' em you're a faggot now would ya?

I don't say anything, too busy trying to keep the fear from my eyes. There's a strange lump in my throat. You just can't win with him, with any of them, they're all against me. If I were to lash out now with my partially free arm, perhaps I could jab a finger or two in his eye then make a run for it, but is there really any point to such a feeble, attempt when the chances of it succeeding are so pathetically low and the punishment so great? Bothering to try seems laughable, after so many miserable failures in the past.

'Not so cocky now, are we?' Suddenly softness has returned to the voice above me, and the hand around my throat loosens somewhat. 'I'm the only friend you got here. I'm the only one who understands you, don't forget that. Now, are you gunna be good or ya gunna keep givin' me lip?'

'No.'

'Speak up.'

'NO.'

'No what?'

'No sir.'

'No sir what?'

'No. Sir. I'll. Be. Good.'

'That's good.'

Silence again, tick tock tick tock. The hand on my neck travels slowly upwards, until it comes to rest in my hair.

…

I go into bathroom for a shower afterwards to wash the haze out of my mind, which is full of ghostly clouds as it usually is after this happens. I pass the sink and notice a syringe lying there and partly obscuring the glossy white drain, but I don not touch it, knowing _he'll_ come and clear it away later. I'd never dream of daring to touch them, because that's where the demons live, where he traps them, but they're always calling, and he gives into them eventually.

The scalding water makes my skin flush scarlet as it beats down on me with sharp pelts, and once I'm dry it will make me itch, but it's ok because it doesn't hurt, not at the moment. I never can remember much after we're done playing his strange games, I don't think about it long enough or with a clear enough head to form any real memory, because thinking about it makes my stomach tie itself into tight, sickening knots. All there is is unexpected flashes from time to time- the sound of someone breathing, the smell of skin, of sweat, the hot, clammy feeling of his fingers- a blur of alien sensations that make little sense to me. But as little sense as they may make, these brief flashes that come from no where make me wary, so much so that I find myself looking tensely over my shoulder more than I care to admit, listening for his footsteps and asking myself at the same time why I'm doing it. It's like the things I see behind my eyes are more dreams than memories until he comes back to bring them to life again, then as soon as they've come that thick fog settles over my mind and they're gone again.

Is that strange? It is, I know. It isn't just those particular things I keep remembering either, it's all sorts of things- past missions, my dead world, my old life, words people have said that I'd rather forget, things that they've done. I feel like I'm losing myself and stepping back in time for brief moments, not to mention my memory doesn't operate the way it used to, storing irrelevant details of events rather than events themselves. People are starting to notice, starting to question what is wrong with me when these things happen that never happened back when I wasn't like this, before I came here to this place where nothing and nobody is what they claim to be. I know only one thing, that just being here is poisoning me and I have to find a way out of it, before I lose my mind and myself for good.

End

Well this is a one shot. Don't know if I'll make an actual story to which this will be a prequel or just let this be a stand alone. I guess I'll see how this one is recieved and more importantly how much time I have.


End file.
